I am tired, but I cannot sleep. I am thirsty, but I cannot drink. I am hungry, but I cannot eat. I have been here before. You would think my past experiences would help me this time around. They have not. I know this feeling. I know these thoughts.
I have looked this demon in the face before. Virtually, I am willing to give in. I have seen it play play out in my mind. Everything from the suicide note to apologizing to my son. How bad is my life that suicide seems to be the smartest decision?
I am lonely and no one is here. I am sad and have been for years. I am angry and I do not know why. Tonight, an incredible amount of anger has overcome me. Out of nowhere, I have become pissed off. If someone was with me, they would see it physically in my body language and more so, from my facial expressions. If I had company with me, and they made me more mad, I would snap. There is a ferocious feeling inside of me. I never felt it before. It's nothing I have ever felt before. Not even close. The only thing I fear is what is inside of me. Tonight, in this moment, I am the most fearful I have ever been.
Am I winning this battle? How will I know if I ever win? Is it about winning, or is surviving considered a victory with this illness? I may be still alive, but I am tortured. I don't fake my smile anymore. I am real about my illness. I have opened up to it. Faced it. Accepted it. Maybe I expected it to be easier, as I seemed to get better. Then these nights occur and bring my back to planet Earth and my reality. Perhaps it is false hope. I don't know. I never know.
Sometimes I daydream. I catch myself planning my own funeral. Wondering where I will have the service. Who will come pay their last respects. Sadly, these thoughts do not scare me. Maybe I already have it written down somewhere. If not, maybe I should. Put the thoughts down on paper. I know they are real. Perhaps I should record it for the record.
Am I desperate? Do I know what that word means? What am I desperate about? I could be desperate to die. That may be the only way to end these internal monsters. I could be desperate to end the noise, feelings, and thoughts. At some points, it doesn't even matter.
Seconds seem like minutes. Minutes like hours. And the hours seem endless. If clocks didn't exist, would I even care or notice? During my dark nights, I am told everyone dies. It is suggested to me that since everyone dies, I should take matters into my own hands and beat everyone to the finish line. I try to lie to myself and tell me that I am fine. Fine has no meaning in my world. I lie to myself more than anyone else. I am so alone and sad, the only company I have are my demons. They talk to me more than anyone. Sometimes, like a smooth-talking politician, they make very valid points. I begin to listen to them. I do not know why, they seem right and even worse, they have my attention.
If I didn't write or express myself, this would be the kind of misery and pain I would have to deal with bottled up. No one to speak to. I don't think about what i am going to say. I just let it out. 100% truth. 100% scary. If the board members inside me hear or are persuaded enough, they may come to an decision and take action, I would be left powerless. I would be found dead.
"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
- Mark Twain
Yours Truly,
T.J. Smith
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